


Magnetism

by always_a_queen



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:23:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_a_queen/pseuds/always_a_queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma touches it before she can stop herself, fingers stretching out to brush the intricate strands of metal that weave together to form the necklace's pendent.</p><p>"Don't--" Ward says, grabbing her shoulder, but he's too late. She's touched it, and he's touched her.</p><p>(They don't realize how completely screwed they are until much later.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains sexy-times while both characters are under the influence of a mysterious magical item of presumably alien origin. If that bothers you, turn back now.
> 
> I could be persuaded to write a second part to this, but it would most likely be angst.

It starts with an amulet. The item is found in an archaeological dig and is quickly recognized as alien. As always, SHIELD is called in to examine it. This could not be more of a mistake.

(Actually, no. If Jemma is honest with herself, it starts when she leaps out of a plane and he jumps after her. It starts when she realizes she was hanging in the sky with her every limb wrapped around Ward's body. His very well toned body. She remembers hiding her face in his shoulder in an attempt to conceal her blush.)

Jemma touches it before she can stop herself, fingers stretching out to brush the intricate strands of metal that weave together to form the necklace's pendent.

"Don't--" Ward says, grabbing her shoulder, but he's too late. She's touched it, and he's touched her.

(They don't realize how completely, well, _screwed_ they are until much later.)

* * *

 

Jemma has a hard time trying to sleep that night.

The temperature on the bus is usually cool, but Jemma feels way too hot. She's already stripped down to a tank top and boyshorts, yet her skin is still slick with sweat.

And she can't stop thinking about that amulet, locked away in a secure air-tight container in her lab. It's so pretty. So complexly made, and of a material that is definitely not native to this planet. Jemma's never seen anything like it before. She wants to see it again.

If she doesn't touch it, it can't _hurt_ , right?

(Later, she will blame her inability to resist this temptation on the amulet itself. She'll blame a lot of things on the amulet. In reality, it is difficult to ascertain which of these things are actually the amulet's fault.)

Carefully, she pries open the lid of the container they use to subdue potentially hazardous alien material. The necklace gleams in the dim fluorescent light. Jemma takes it in her hands, staring intently for just a second, before she carefully loops it around her neck. The chain is long enough that the pendant hangs right between her breasts, and she touches it with her thumb as it settles into place there. The metal seems darker against her pale skin.

"What are you doing down here?"

Jemma jumps, pressing a hand to her chest, over the necklace. Her heart is _racing_. "Ward. You-you scared me."

Ward looks first at the empty box, then at the hand foolishly attempting to conceal her transgression. Quickly, she drops her arm to her side.

Without a word, he reaches forward and touches the pendent. The side of his finger brushes against the sensitive skin of her breast. Simmons draws in a sharp breath, but the rise of her chest only makes the situation worse.

She moves her gaze from his fingers to his eyes and that's a mistake too. His pupils are wide, and his expression is very focused. Intensely focused. Intensely focused on _her_. She wants to look away from the depth of that gaze, but it feels impossible.

The connection feels tangible, and for a moment curiosity kicks in. This is a similar sensation to the one she had when she first touched the amulet. And Ward was touching her when she first touched the amulet, so maybe this electric charge humming in her fingertips begging her to touch him has to do with the necklace.

Curiosity fully piqued, Jemma reaches up to touch Ward's neck. She's right; it's like his skin is magnetic to hers. He flinches when she touches him and then gives her a look of...she's not sure. Relief? Annoyance?

"That-that was for science," she stammers.

"For science?"

"I think I've just about gotten it solved. You and I," she swallows quickly, "we touched the amulet - at the base - electrons and protons, you see - it's all electricity, well, actually, half of it is chemistry, but the _other_ half is electricity and - "

Her conclusion of _I_ _should probably take this thing off now_ is lost against Ward's lips.

Whoops.

She was never a huge fan of the 'kissing a girl to shut her up' bit in the movies, always thought it was rude and more than a little insensitive. Now, she forces herself to acknowledge the perks of the maneuver, because Ward is a very nice kisser. Very nice.

And it's not like Jemma's had a huge amount of experience in that area - well, a bit, she's dabbled, but not much - but she'd definitely give him a nine out of ten. Bonus points for the exceptionally skilled use of his hands should certainly be awarded, because _oh, that feels good._

She's pushing herself up on her tiptoes in order to compensate for their height difference, but after one kiss has melded into two it hardly matters, since Ward takes a moment to lift her up and set her bum on the - thankfully empty - table behind her.

The case that previously held the amulet falls to the floor with a clatter and Jemma amends that last thought. _Practically_ empty. It's inconsequential because Ward is still kissing her and his hands are running along the tops of her shoulders, sliding down the straps of her tank top to expose more of her too-hot skin to the cool air of the lab.

The absurdity of the situation hits her full force. _Is she seriously making out with Grant Ward right now? Crabby Grant Ward? Who doesn't smile or laugh or be anything other than deadly serious?_

Some part of her brain is trying to catalog all the different hormones and pheromones rushing through her system, but the thought process feels muddled. All she's thinking of is Grant's hands on her body and the sensation of his tongue against hers and she feels...very hot

She takes his wrists in her hands and lifts his arms up above his head. Obediently, he holds them there while she grabs the bottom of his shirt and pulls it up and off.

Then his arms are down and around her body, and his mouth is on hers again and she can't think. The material slips through her fingers, and she can't be bothered to care about where it lands.

Quite on their own accord, her legs fall open. Ward steps between them as if he's done this a thousand times - and maybe he has. The position is very similar to when he caught her mid-air, with her legs and arms wrapped around him and the strength and steadiness of him holding her up. Jemma likes it very much. Ward makes her feel safe in a way that few others have. He's not going to hurt her.

And so when his lips move from her mouth to her neck she only protests slightly because while kissing him was very nice, his lips are also evoking a rather pleasant sensation right there. And there. And- _oh right there_.

She's fairly certain she's said the last bit aloud because he chuckles and moves back to that spot a few seconds later.

Everything is moving very fast and very slow all at once. The dull throb between her legs has grown into a very insistent ache, and when Ward presses his hips against hers once, then twice, she moans in a rather wanton way she hadn't previously thought herself capable of.

His thumbs rub circles into her hips; his lips suck a slow hickey onto her neck. She whimpers and runs her fingers over his abs, curving a path across his ribcage. When he shudders, it takes her a second to realize that it's because of _her._

"You are so," he kisses her lips again, "so beautiful."

She hasn't heard those words from anyone other than her dad in quite a while. For some reason Ward thinking she's beautiful is one of the greatest things in the world.

She wants to ask him what they're doing, why now, why this, why does she feel like the world will end if they stop, why her when he's never shown any interest before, why -

His hands are on the waistband of her boy shorts and he's looking right into her eyes. She just knows somehow that he's asking permission, and she can't think of a good reason why not. She wants him. She wants him to bend her over the table or throw her to the floor. She wants this need for something - for _him_ \- this weight of want in her chest and between her thighes, gone from her body. (And at the same time she doesn't, so that's properly confusing.)

Instead, Ward goes down on his knees and puts his mouth on her as he drags her undergarments down her legs. When she shudders and stammers expletives that would make her mother blush, he looks rather pleased with himself.

Sometime after that she pushes him to the floor, shucks off his jeans, and lowers herself onto him, bracing her hands on his shoulders. He says her name reverently, and it's the most beautiful sound, twisted and pulled from his lips as he appears to fight for some modicum of control.

She keeps her eyes on his; her focus is on him more than any of the movements her body is making. She finds her release a second before he does, and once that burden of want is lifted, she slowly collapses onto his chest. He wraps his arms around her and keeps her close to him. She can hear his heartbeat slow, and she recognizes that the pounding in her head and in her chest is slowly fading, but in it's place, sleep quickly takes hold of her senses.

Pressed between their chests, unnoticed, the amulet glows a bright, steady blue.

* * *

 

Jemma wakes up in the morning and her head hurts. A quick examination of her surroundings confirms two things: she's in the lab and she's wearing Ward's shirt.

The sound of someone clearing their throat makes Jemma look up. Melinda May stands in the doorway, arms crossed. Behind Jemma, a shirtless Grant Ward groans and sits up. He pales when he sees May. Jemma covers her burning face in her hands. She remembers far more of the night before than she wishes she did. The amulet seems to burn against her chest.

She can see no possible way for this to end well.

* * *

end.

 


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to continue to blame Open-Pandoras-Box and notababoonbrandishingastick for this. I still can't believe I'm shipping these two, and the blame definitely falls upon the two of you.
> 
> I majorly lucked out that at least some of the Norse mythology I started researching (um, *after* the first part of this fic was posted) actually fits in with what I'm doing here.

"What do you remember?" May asks.

_Jemma pushing him to the floor; the feel of him sliding inside her; the look on her face as she co--_

He closes his eyes tightly and shoves those visuals from his mind. It comes as no surprise to him when he has a difficult time looking May in the eye. "It's all a bit of a blur, to be honest."

May has to know he's lying through his teeth. She's too good not to know. Grant's not sure if he's relieved she isn't calling him on it, or distressed that she's going to let him suffer under the weight of the full knowledge of everything that happened.

"You don't need to worry about any disciplinary action," May says, in a tone just a touch gentler than usual. "These things happen."

The fact that by "these things" she means possession by alien necklaces that obviously contain some form of libido altering juju does not help Ward feel any better.

"We need to talk to Simmons," Coulson says. "And you both need to know that nobody's blaming you for things that were obviously outside of your control."

Something in Ward's stomach clenches tightly. Out-of-control is not a position in which he feels even the slightest amount of comfort. And it's one he keeps finding himself in since Jemma jumped and he followed.

"What's going to happen to the necklace, sir?"

Coulson doesn't answer for a second. "Right now, we're going to keep following protocol. It's going to get locked up in a dark room, and we're going to throw away the key."

"Jemma's going to want to look at it."

"Jemma's not going to go near it," May says. "That's what started this in the first place."

After Ward leaves Coulson's office, he finds Jemma on the couch in the common room, Skye and Fitz sit on either side of her.

"Jemma," for some reason it's difficult to say her name, but calling her Simmons feels really wrong. "They want to talk to you."

He can't take his eyes off of her as she leaves. Fitz marches off as soon as Jemma's out of sight.

Skye stares up at him with big, wide eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

_Jemma, eyes wide, hands in his hair, coming apart just from the touch of his lips--_

Ward shakes his head. "No. I don't."

 

* * *

 

Jemma descends the stairs slowly, half expecting Fitz, Skye and Ward to all be waiting for her at the bottom. They're not, thank heavens. At least, not _all_ of them. Ward is sitting on the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands on his head. He looks up when she slowly sinks into the chair across from him.

Last night is fuzzy around the edges, but the thing Jemma remembers with perfect clarity was the way Ward _looked_ at her. Like he could see right through her. Like he understood her, every part of her. And she remembers looking at him and understanding him. She remembers feeling like her whole soul was laid bare, but also that it was safe, because his soul was bare too. It was a give and take of trust in equal measure, the same weight of intimacy on either side of the scale.

Now his eyes are on hers, and all she sees is regret. She wishes it didn't sting as much as it does.

"This is my fault," Jemma says. Maybe if she takes the blame he won't look so much like a kicked puppy. Ruefulness is a unsettling expression on Ward, and it makes her feel like the world is going to crumble at any moment. "I shouldn't have touched it. I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who is supposed to protect you."

"Yes, from bad guys with guns or knives or stupid decisions like jumping out of an airplane. I think defending against Alien Sex Pollen is technically my department. I'm the one who is supposed to fix things."

Quickly, she looks down, away from Ward's eyes. "I don't know how to fix this, and I'm sorry."

She hears him sigh deeply. "You shouldn't have to fix this. I should have stopped it."

"You should have stopped an alien device that either raised our libidos or lowered our inhibitions or - in all likelihood - _both_? I think you can cut yourself some slack." She clears her throat and tries to take a lighter tone. "Besides. I'm here. I'm alive. You're alive. There don't seem to be any lasting effects."

Aside for this unbelievable desire to kiss him, but she's not mentioning that. Jemma's not even sure if that's her or the amulet, but since all she wants is a kiss - and if she's truthful with herself, she wanted that before the necklace was even a thought in her mind - she doesn't think there are any lasting effects.

She wishes they'd let her examine the amulet more. All she wants to do is dissect it piece by piece, see how it messed with their chemical balances, because that's what it must have done. It must have.

It doesn't matter that they won't let her near the amulet though, Jemma has a plan. It involves Skye and way too much research into the nonsensical and non-science-y, but it's a start. And she needs to start somewhere. She needs to know where her actions ended and the amulet's began.

More than that, she needs to know where Ward's actions ended and the amulet's began. Because she's fairly certain that while she finds him interesting on a romantic level, he's never looked at her like that. It seems like a cruelty of the universe to let her have sexual intercourse with him - and very, very outstanding and pleasurable sexual intercourse at that - and have it not be something he'd want.

Surely the universe can't hate her that much.

 

* * *

 

Jemma nervously shifts her weight from one foot to the other as she knocks lightly on the door to Skye's bunk. "I need your help."

Ten minutes later, Skye's grabbed a laptop and Jemma is frantically scribbling down notes.

"I thought you didn't believe in all this 'magic' stuff," Skye says as she sifts through. "What's with the change of heart?"

"I still don't believe in magic," Jemma answers, "I have, however, come to the realization that more primitive society's might have seen science and called it magic. Learning the folklore behind this... _thing_ might help me figure out what it did, and come up with an actual hypothesis for how it works according to the laws of science."

"Right," Skye says, drawing out the world. "Are you sure this isn't you just trying to avoid thinking about what happened?"

_Ward peeling off her shirt, Ward trembling as she runs her fingers over his stomach, Ward's sharp intake of breath as she tugs down his pants and --_

Her face is flaming red, and Jemma presses both palms to her cheeks.

Skye doesn't lift her eyes from her computer screen. "Wait - here's something..."

"What?"

"Well, I've pulled up the pictures and the 3D rendering of the amulet that one of Fitz's dwarfs got when we first picked it up. There's some detailing here that might correlate to an Asgardian script."

"What comes up when you do a search on Asgardian jewelry?"

"That was the first thing I tried. Most of the hits are for places selling Asgardian themed costume jewelry to raise funds for rebuilding New York."

Jemma sits back in her chair.

"Woah," Skye says a second later, "Get this: there's a Norse goddess of sex and lust - Fryja - who's remembered for having - and losing - a necklace called the _Brísingamen_. This site doesn't say what it did or why she had it, but look, according to legend, Odin banished her to...mi-o-gar-o?"

" _Miðgarð_ ," Jemma says, suddenly breathless. "That's Earth."

 

* * *

 

Sleep is an elusive thing when one's brain has a limitless selection of vivid images of naked Jemma Simmons to keep it awake. This is something Ward is learning the hard way.

He's slamming his fists into his punching bag when Jemma descends the stares near the lab.

They don't say anything to each other. She gives him a sad shrug; he gives her a nod of his head. For a while, they work in tandem. She bustles about the lab, he looses his anger at everything upon the poor unsuspecting punching bag.

His anger is mostly directed at himself. He should have stopped it. He should have realized what was going on.

He shouldn't have enjoyed it so damn much. That is the worst part. He _enjoyed_ it. The thought turns his stomach. Every time his thoughts inevitably turn to the previous night, to Jemma's skin and Jemma's hands and--

Grant shuts his eyes and tries to block out the images flooding his mind. He doesn't have much time to do so, because at that moment he hears the door to the lab slide open. He turns to look at Simmons. She's biting her lower lip, and he tries not to think about how very much he'd like to do the same.

"Since you're awake...would you mind terribly if I did another physical?" she asks. "I'd like to compare the readings with the one I did this morning?"

Ward shakes his head. "I don't mind." It's the least he can do, really.

He hesitates when she motions for him to take his shirt off, but it's a pretty standard request for a physical.

Jemma frowns at her stethoscope. "Your heartbeat's accelerated."

He doesn't know how to tell her that it wasn't racing before she placed her hand on his bicep.

"Oh," she says suddenly, pulling her hand away as if she can read his thoughts.

He wants to groan at the loss, wants to grab her hand and put it back.

(He wants to grab _her_ and wrap his arms around _her_ , lift her up and taste her lips as he rips off her shirt --)

Turning away, Jemma ducks her head, and he sees just the tiniest hint of a blush on her cheeks. The urge to kiss her is so overpowering he has to casually place a hand on the nearby counter to steady himself.

Jemma's saying something, long words stringing themselves together into longer sentences, but for a minute or two Ward can't follow it at all. Her voice is quiet, but it fills up the space between them.

When she turns back towards him, he can't help reaching out to touch her. It's unbearable, this need, low in his hips and tight in his chest. She lets out this quiet gasp as his hand finds her cheek, and her eyes instantly close. He wonders if it feels as righ - as gratifying -  to her as it does to him.

He moves to cup her other cheek with his opposite hand, slowly leaning down. Their foreheads touch. They're so close together, but her lips feel so far away.

"Sorry," he says, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks. "I'm sorry."

She wraps her fingers around his wrists. "Don't be. Please don't be."

He looks down at her to see that her eyes are shut. They're close enough that he can feel her breath against his mouth.

Something inside him breaks and before he can stop himself he's closing the distance between them and kissing her.

For all that they've been standing beside each other purposefully _not_ kissing for the past three minutes, she actually reacts with surprise. Her hands tighten around his wrists, and she makes this muffled _hmmm_ against his lips as she parts her own, flicking the tip of her tongue against his mouth.

With a low moan, Grant bends at the knees, grabs hold of her thighs and hoists her up, wrapping her legs around his waist even as he continues to kiss her. She feels like perfection, like all he's ever wanted and all he ever will.

He only abandons her lips to press kisses along her jawline, finding the spot that makes her gasp and grind her hips against his. Simmons tips her head back and lets her mouth fall open; her arms wrap around his neck, fingers scratching gently against his scalp.

"Ward," his name is a breath against his ear, and he holds her just a little tighter in response. He thinks she's going to tell him they can't do this, which, she's right.

He really should set her down.

He really doesn't want to set her down.

"Not in the lab," she says, and it's not exactly permission but at the same time it sort of _is_ , so he takes it. The bunks won't be quiet enough, even if he could fathom carrying her up the stairs.

Grant carries her around to the back of the SUV, and she loosens her legs around him, sliding down his body and back onto her own feet while he fumbles to open the door behind her. Both back rows of seats are folded down, giving them a bit more space.

It's still a bit cramped, but she's breathing hard and lifting herself up onto the surface. Her hands are on Ward's shoulders as she pulls him in after her. He catches her lips as he coaxes her backwards. Keeping one hand on the small of her back and the other behind her neck, he lowers her down onto her back settling himself between her legs.

She wiggles just a touch, getting into a more comfortable position for both of them. Once she's accomplished that though, her hands quickly go to his pants, flicking open the button of his jeans and tugging down his fly. He groans into her mouth.

"Is this okay?" he asks, and he's not sure if he's talking about all of _this_ or about the fact that his hands have just slipped beneath his shirt, fully of their own volition.

"Oh, hell yes," she breathes, eyes tightly shut, mouth falling open as she rocks her hips up against his.

Everything falls into a wonderful blur after that. Her skin sliding against his skin, and the sound of her whispering his name (his _first_ name - "Grant. Grant. _Grant_.") when he does something right.

The sight of her climaxing beneath him is incredible, but he only has a fleeting second to enjoy it because his release chases hers. The next thing he knows he's got his face tucked against the curve of her neck and her hands are soothing a path up and down his spine.

Panting, Ward lifts himself off of her. He turns his head, she turns hers, and their lips meet in the middle. It's a soft, slow kiss, nothing like the frenzied actions a few minutes ago.

When they part, all they can do is stare at each other for a moment. Then Jemma lets loose a high, melodic giggle.

Bending to rest his forehead on her shoulder, Ward joins in on the laughter. It feels bizzare, almost as alien as the necklace locked away somewhere; he can't remember the last time he laughed like this, low and real and from his gut.

"So much for no lasting effects," Jemma says with a sigh. She the length of her fingers against her mouth and looks up at him with these bright, shining eyes.

So he kisses her. Not because of any sort of compulsion, not because he feels this blinding, all-consuming need. No, he kisses her because he wants to kiss her. He kisses her because she's beautiful and that definition spreads to every part of her.

He kisses her because he suddenly wants to kiss Jemma Simmons, and he desperately wants it to be real this time.

 

* * *

 

In a box locked far away, the amulet's bright blue glow slowly dimms into nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could probably *still* be persuaded to continue this.


	3. Three

Somehow, Skye knows it happened again without Jemma having to tell her. The two of them spend the following afternoon doing more research on the _Brísingamen_. All they manage to find are a few more websites filled with speculation. None of the stories line up, none of the legends match.

(There's also this strange bit about Loki turning into a fly that Jemma _really_ doesn't want to think too much about.)

After a few hours, they get called away on an actual SHIELD emergency - Jemma and Ward's sexual dalliances don't count as one, apparently - but before they land at their destination, Jemma sneaks away to make a phone call.

"Professor Randall?" Jemma says, ducking into her tiny quarters on the bus. It'll provide her some privacy, but not much. "This is Jemma Simmons. I was hoping I could ask you some questions. About Asgard. And magic."

She sticks to the basics as much as she can. They found a necklace with Asgardian markings, she was hoping he could tell her what he knew about it.

She does _not_ mention having sex with Ward. Twice.

After providing Randall with a detailed description of the necklace, she gets confirmation that, yes, the amulet could very well could be Fryja's _Brísingamen_.

"I've no way to tell without seeing it, of course," Randall says. Jemma stays quiet. That won't be happening. She can't even access the _photos_ of it.

"Professor, if the necklace is an Asgardian relic, should we be concerned about any of our people who've handled it without appropriate safety measures?"

"Are your people experiencing any strange symptoms or behaviors?"

Jemma purses her lips, unsure how to say 'sudden increase of libido' without having to proffer further explanation as to why she knows about this reaction.

"This is just a precaution," she says. "We just want to be prepared for whatever the necklace might do."

"But that's just it, Ms. Simmons, the necklace doesn't do anything. Not according to lore. _Fryja_ might have been the goddess of sex and lust, but as far as anyone knows, the _Brísingamen_ didn't have any special powers of it's own."

The knot building in her chest grows to a suffocating size. It's not like Randall was her last hope or anything, but with the amulet locked away, no way to concretely prove that it even is the _Brísingamen_ , Jemma was really hoping he'd have answers for her. The disappointment stings.

She's thanking him for his time and assistance right as she hears Fitz calling her name.

* * *

 

Despite the fact that Jemma daily tells herself she has nothing to prove, she nonetheless starts mentally cataloguing Things That Are Probably Happening Because of the Sex Amulet.

Her heart rate speeding up in Ward's vicinity? That's because of the Sex Amulet.

The sudden increase in blushing and stammering? Sex Amulet.

The odd, constant awareness of Ward's whereabouts? Sex Amulet.

The unconscious clench between her legs when Ward's hand lands on her shoulder or his fingers brush against hers when he hands her something? Absolutely the fault of the Sex Amulet.

At some point, she really should compare notes with Ward, but some of the things she's feeling are not things she really wants to admit to or talk about.

(Particularly the nights she wakes up with her legs tangled in her sheets, body slick with sweat, heart pounding, and a familiar ache between her thighs.)

The flashes back to their times together are the worst (and best) part. She'll be working in the lab when suddenly it's as if her body has been transported back into one of those moments. The first time it happens she feels the calluses on his hands brushing against the side of her ribcage.

The second time she almost scares Fitz because the sensation of Ward's hands gripping the back of her thighs is so _real_ she could swear he's actually right behind her.

She doesn't have a description for it besides' phantom feelings, except she's not actually missing an arm or a leg.

She's missing _Ward_.

* * *

 

The next mission is a mission from hell.

(Well, not really _hell_ , per se, more like from _Muspelheim_ , but still.)

Jemma's got a nasty burn on the back of her shoulder from where an escaped fire demon scratched her when she jumped in the monster's way to protect Ward.

He insists on patching her up, and since Fitz and Skye haven't returned yet, Simmons and Ward have the lab to themselves.

Ward doesn't say anything as he finds dressing and bandages and sets them on the table. In the silence, Jemma can hear all the things he wants to say. Ward's never been one for yelling at her for protecting people, but it's a different story when he's the one she's protecting.

His back is to her while she unbuttons her blouse and peels it away from her shoulder, keeping it wrapped around her middle.

She tries not to think about how this is the first time they've been in a room alone together since the last time they had sex. Then her thoughts turn to the _Brísingamen_ and whether or not it's still influencing them - if it even ever was. Could it really be that this has been them all along?

That doesn't seem right. Everything between them has been off-kilter since the inciting incident. Exactly how much off-kilter, Jemma doesn't know.

Obviously their entire relationship changed when they first slept together. But after that, _beyond_ that, is the amulet the reason she flashes back to their two times together? Is it really the reason that her thoughts constantly turn to Ward?

Or is it that she's finally gotten a taste of something that she's quite honestly wanted for a long time, and she wants to blame the feelings she can no longer deny on something else?

Ward is quiet as he smoothes burn cream across her skin and tapes on the bandage. His hands are bliss and agony against her skin as he patches her up. Simmons is used to fixing people, not letting herself be fixed.

"It's still happening," he says softly. "Isn't it?"

Suddenly, the only thoughts her brain is capable of are all the other things he's done to her body with those hands.

"I don't know," she says, because she _doesn't_ know and she hates not knowing. She's not uncomfortable with uncertainty in most circumstances, but this one make her stomach churn.

Until Ward dips his head to kiss her, both of his palms pressing into her waist. She can feel the heat of his hands through the thin material of her shirt, and she grips his shoulders as she leans into his touch.

It's one of those slow, steal-your-breath-and-then-give-it-back kisses, and the intensity of it makes Jemma sure she would be weak in the knees if she wasn't already sitting down. As it is, she feels lightheaded, more so when Ward pulls back slightly, moving a hand to cup her cheek as he presses his forehead against hers. His breath is hot against her mouth, and she doesn't have to wonder if he's as affected by it as she is when he tucks a lock of her hair back behind her ear and she feels his fingers tremble as they do.

"I don't think I care," he whispers and it takes her a second to register what he's talking about.

He tilts his head as he leans in again, changing the angle and letting this kiss go even deeper. She opens her mouth to him, and his tongue pushes gently against hers. It's impossible to stop the soft moan at the contact, and Ward responds to it by pulling her in closer, his arms wrapping securely around her.

The world could be ending, and Jemma wouldn't notice because she's too busy enjoying the fact that Grant Ward is kissing her stupid.

One of her hands falls to the waistband of his jeans, and Fitz and Skye choose that moment to return. They're loudly bickering about what SHIELD is going to do with the corpse of a dead fire demon - and Ward takes an immediate step back. Jemma almost wants to cry from the sudden loss of him. He doesn't look any happier.

Neither of them say another word as Ward finishes patching her up.

* * *

 

It's been an eternally long day, but SHIELD springs for hotel rooms, which is the only silver lining. The team grabs dinner together, but their rooms are all on different floors, so they all go their separate ways in the lobby.

Jemma sees Ward standing in front of his room, a few doors down.

They stare at each other across the hallway for a long, tense moment. And then before Jemma realizes it, she's moving towards him - or he's moving towards her. It's hard to tell. In a blur of movement, she's in his arms, dragged up onto her toes to be able to kiss him better.

One hand tips her head back while the other wraps securely around her waist, holding her up and pressing her body tightly to his.

They only break away from one another when the elevator doors ding. Without exchanging words, Ward slides his keycard through the lock on his door and ushers her inside his room. The second she's inside the room, her duffle bag hits the floor. In one quick movement Ward throws his own bag on top of hers, shuts the door to the room, takes her back into his arms and places his lips are back on hers.

Jemma lets out this odd, high-pitched sort of whine as Ward pushes her back against the nearest wall. He holds her by the waist as he lifts her up, and she scrambles for a second to slip into a good position against him. Finally, her legs find purchase around his hips, making her feel sure that she won't fall.

(Though she knows he'd catch her even if she did.)

His hands feel like they're absolutely everywhere, and she _loves it_. It's so easy to get caught up in everything about him. There's a tiny part of her brain that wonders if this all-consuming focus on Ward is brought on by the amulet. It's locked in a box, far, far away, where it shouldn't be able to exert any influence over them.

Shouldn't being the key word. It _shouldn't_ still have any influence over them. Mythical sex amulets likely don't follow earth rules. Jemma still wants to take it apart in a lab, figure out exactly how it messed with their chemical balances and --

Ward's hips rock against hers as his lips move back to her mouth, and all logical thought flees from her mind.

"Ward," she manages to say between kisses. "Bed."

"Mmmm." He hums against her lips, hands unbuttoning her shirt, tantalizingly grazing his knuckles against the smooth skin of her stomach. He slides the shirt down her arms - so careful not to hurt the burn on her shoulder - and lets the garment fall to the floor.

"Bed." She tugs lightly at his hair. " _Now_ , Grant."

It's not the first time she's called him that out loud, but it is the first time it's happened while she wasn't in the middle of a mind-shattering orgasm. And while his first name shows up in her thoughts often, now it feels familiar to her ears, but strange on her tongue.

Ward grins at her, but he obligingly steps back, tightening his arms around her as turns to follow her instruction.

He bends to set her down on the bed, and for just a second she's staring up at him, her hands trailing down his arms. He stills when she reaches for the hem of his shirt, but quickly complies by helping her lift it up and off.

Once it's gone, Ward kneels in front of her and peels away her shirt so he can place a line of kisses from her breastbone to the hem of her jeans.

"We're in so much trouble," she whines, as he flicks open the button of her jeans and tugs down the zipper. "Someone is going to find out."

"Simmons," he says softly, dragging her pants and underwear down her legs in one quick motion, "You could have died."

He presses a kiss to the top of her thigh as he throws her jeans aside. "I really don't like it when you almost die."

Jemma brushes a hand across the side of his face. They stay suspended in that moment for a second, eyes locked on each other. "I don't like it when you almost die either."

He surges forward then, arms banding tight around her waist as he pulls her close to him, kissing her firmly and stealing her breath away. They fall backwards onto the bed, him over her.

"You," she says between short, shallow breathes, "Are wearing too many clothes."

She means for it to be joking, for it to lighten the sudden, heady intensity with which he's kissing her, but the words come out laced with tenderness.

Dipping his head down to kiss the bend of her neck and shoulder, Ward murmurs her name against her skin, and she's lost again.

"Clothes, Ward," she whispers when his fingers sneak around her to unclasp her bra. "Off."

"I _am_ taking clothes off," he protests, slipping her bra off of her body and tossing it aside.

Bending down to kiss her collarbone, he keeps moving downward. Before he can get too far, her hands land on his shoulders, gripping tight.

"Grant." There's his name again. His lips still against her skin, and he tips his head back just slightly to look up at her. " _Your_ clothes," she specifies.

He chuckles then, and it's so strange to hear Ward laugh that it takes Jemma a second to realize that one of his hands has actually gone to the button of his jeans.

He backs away to slide the pants down his hips, and the fact that he's not touching her is agony.

"Condom." Jemma says.

She's been on the pill since she was seventeen, and SHIELD insists upon them being tested regularly, so it's not like they _need_ one. But it's safer, and she'll feel better.

Jemma scoots back on the bed while Ward tears open the condom wrapper. A few seconds later he's climbing on top of her, hands sliding up her sides as he parts her legs and settles between them.

Like the removal of the last item of clothing between them has flipped a switch, Ward suddenly slows down. He kisses her, and he rocks against her, sliding calloused fingers between her legs and building her up slowly until it feels like every nerve ending in her body is pulsing with want and need.

They both let out a shaky breath when he slides inside, like that action alone has fixed something otherwise broken.

When he moves, back and forth in a way she's only able to describe as _perfection_ , it's all she can do to just breathe, and even then her breaths turn into moans and sighs.

She's right on the edge when he slows down, kissing her mouth and rubbing his thumbs into the space above her hipbones.

There's emotion and feeling in his kiss, and Jemma doesn't usually cry during or after sex, but this time feels different. More driven by emotions than by libido. If that isn't the scariest thing in the world, Jemma doesn't know what is. Even jumping from a plane doesn't bring the euphoria and sense of free fall that this does.

She rocks her hips and moans his name and that seems to break Ward out of this haze of emotion. His movements become quicker, less controlled.

"So close," she whispers, and all he has to say is, "I've got you," before she's clenching around him, crying out as she hides her face against his shoulder. He follows her, continuing to press kisses along her neck and shoulders as they both come down.

* * *

 

This is the first time they haven't either fallen asleep or gone their separate ways immediately after. Jemma ends up with her head against Ward's chest, legs tangled with his. One of his hands rubs her back.

Jemma's physically exhausted, but her mind is wide awake. Was this the amulet or not? Did she just have sex with Ward because she wanted to and he wanted to? Or was this not really them?

Ward's hand stills its movement against her back. "I can hear you thinking, Jemma."

She doesn't apologize for it. "What if this is still the amulet?"

"What if it's not?"

She hesitates to say it, but eventually, the words must come out, "How could it not be? You're you and I'm me."

He laughs. "That's not a bad thing, Jemma."

"I know. I just mean that this--this wouldn't have happened without the amulet," she says, trying not to let her voice break.

"Is that what you think?" he asks, "That I would _never_ be like this with you if it weren't from some other-worldly force interfering?"

She doesn't answer; as it turns out, she doesn't have to.

"You are...exquisite," he whispers in her ear, "and brilliant and brave and amazing, and I thought that before any of this happened."

"Promise?" she says, finally willing to tip her head up to look at him. He bends to brush a kiss against her lips.

"Promise."

* * *

 

end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to say that this is the end for now, but it's entirely possible that I'll be adding on to this eventually.


End file.
